King Croesus

This blog is about the KCCD2009 (King Croesus Contempt for Death) Trip and it's preparations. The journey will be performed on 2x 1939 Nimbus motorcycles with sidecars and ETD is April 2009. ETA is unknown, as you never know if it's a Sweet Chariot or an Infernal Machine you ride.

Monday, 27 September 2010

Support T-shirts

Dear all,

As we´re on the brink of bankrupcy these days, done with South America and on the way to Africa, we use the chance to give you the extremely generous offer to support us via buying ultra-super-cool t-shirts for just 20 USD plus p&p. Two different styles availiable, see pictures below, sizes large, x-large and xx-large.

If you ever had problems with your mojo, bad luck, gangrene, back ache, cholestrol, self confidence, here´s the solution. The t-shirt won´t only make you cooler than your mother, it´ll also help for a lot of problems including the ones mentioned above. Even more important, ýour purchase will also save us from starvation the coming months.

Our good friend and supporter Kaj Pedersen from The Nimbus Club USA, California Chapter, is doing the printing and distribution, so go ahead now and place an order by mailing him at kaj.pedersen@nimbusclubusa.com. A very good idea is to go together with your friends and place a big order together and save shipping, or place a big order yourself and give everybody a t-shirt for x-mas.

Tuesday, 21 September 2010

Bolivia-Brasil

From La Paz I went straight down to Sucre to meet up with the Moto Guzzi traveler Paul Van Hoof. The journey wasn’t too bad; the road was good though the altitude was fierce. Needless to say, it was certainly to push the limits with the second as the lowest gear, and constantly going up and down mountains. From Potosi, the said to be the world’s highest big city at 4000 meters, it luckily went down again towards Sucre, located at just 2800 meters.

It had taken me two days from La Paz to Sucre, you don’t make too many miles when you constantly must re-tune the carburetor, take off the air cleaner and run beside the bike in the worst up hills while the bike push your heart to the brink of an attack. However, I couldn’t complain as the bike managed better than expected and the gearbox that broke is a new design, which never came from the Nimbus factory.

Sucre turned out to be the best place I visited in Bolivia. A lot due to Paul and his family’s good company, but it also offered nice architecture and a good nightlife. The two nights I had planned to stay easily got a week.

Paul followed me out of town, and after he left me it was less than 40 kilometers before it was the end of the tarmac. Unfortunately, it was another 4-500 kilometers before I would see a paved road again.

Fair enough, the lower altitude helped, but it was still constant mountains to go up and down. The rough road weighed up for the benefit of the bike running well with more air. With second still as the lowest I had to go as fast as possible into the uphill’s to make it to the tops, and with Mongolian style pavement and countless hairpins you slide through it was indeed to beat the shit out of both man and machine.

My arm muscles were aching like never before, and I was sure I’d brake something in the chassis sooner or later. Suddenly I heard the sound I didn’t want to hear, and then the bike get a funny angle I didn’t find funny at all. The sidecar leaned in towards the bike, squeezing my leg between the exhaust manifold and the sidecar. After some wrestling I got loose from the rig and to my pleasure it was just a sidecar clamp that had let go the sidecar, an easy fix.

Some hills I had to wait for cars to haul me up, it was just no chance to make it. At least the cars passed every hour or two. After all, it’s the main highway from Sucre to Paraguay so it’s plenty of cars passing, if you got time to wait that hour or two.

The pleasure of finding tarmac again closer to the border to Argentina was quickly abandoned and replaced by disgust for Argentinean customs. They required insurance, but did not sell it. First border I ever seen with such a requirement, but not offering it. It seemed clearly to be a matter of corruption, but I never pay. Especially not when they say they are sorry and giggle.

I cleared the bike back into Bolivia, and spent the next day finding a quasi-legal way around the problem, and obtained a proof of insurance. Upon return to the border it was a new shift working, and no problems. It was actually rather pleasant, and they were very excited about the bike and took a lot of pictures.

I never got much impression of Argentina, except from that it was by far more European, civilized and developed than all other countries I’d been to since Colombia. The food was better too.

The route I took along the border to Paraguay and to Formosa was sparsely populated, and at a police check point at dusk they invited me in for the night, fed me and gave me a bed. The police is said to be bad in Argentina, but I had nothing but positive experiences with them.

I was in Argentina only 4 nights before entering Paraguay at Asuncion. Paraguay, which is said to be notorious for corruption was not bad at all. The border crossing was very straight forward, and the only corruption I noticed was the warnings from the customs officers; “Don’t pay the police, they are corrupt assholes”. They never stopped me though.

The only problems that troubled me in Paraguay I had brought with myself. The frame of the bike broke just after the border. I got it fixed, but next day it broke twice more. After the third time it was welded I felt sick while sitting on the bike, just waiting for it to break again in 90 kilometers per hour, making the bike uncontrollable and sending me into a light pole or meeting traffic and further into heaven or hell.

It luckily held up, and after one night and 400 kilometers I had finally reach Brazil, the last stop in South America before going to Africa.

If you try to buy something from the Indians up in the Andes they will usually reply with “Que?!?” which means “What?!?” If you rephrase and push a little they reply with a sour voice and no passion “No hay”. On this picture, two Indians are trading, the woman is trying to re-stock with more no hay for her small shop, and the conversation is something like “Hay no hay?” “Que?!?” “Uno kilogramo no hay por favor” “No hay no hay, no mas no hay”Prøver du å handle med indianere i Andes vil de stort sett besvare forespørselen med “Que!?!?”, som betyr “Hva?!?”. Omformulerer du spørsmålet og presser litt sier de på en sur måte “No hay”, som betyr “Det fines ikke”. Her handler to indianere sammen, og dialogen er antagelig noe sånn som “Hay no hay?” “Que?!?” “Uno no hay por favor!” “No hay no hay”

Paul traveled North and South America for three years on this Guzzi, which went very well until he came to Sucre and made his girlfriend pregnant. Now he’s been here the last two-three years, but plans a new travel to Siberia. Check his good website www.guzzigalore.nlPaul reiste Nord og Syd Amerika I tre å på guzzien, og det hele gikk veldig bra til han smelte ei dame på tjukken I Bolivia. Siden det har han vært værfast der. (www.guzzgalore.nl)

In the mountains from Sucre there were a few houses every now and then, but except from that nothing. If they first had used any paint, it was on things like making a rock into a car sculpture. At least they are creativeI fjellheimen fra Sucre var det noen hus her og der, men stort sett bare ingenting. Om det først var brukt maling på noe, så var det stort sett bare på fjas, slik som å male om stein til biler

The bike is pumping out and through two liters of oil per day now, and when you mix it with the fine dust from the road it get really niceSykkelen pumper ut og igjennom et par liter olje på en lang dags kjøring nå, og sammen med støvet blir det virkelig flott

For the first time in the history I managed to knock the sidecar chassis out of the bracketFørste gang I historien jeg har klart og slå ut sidevognschassiet av braketten sin

The bridges were of the same standard as in Mongolia, but luckily the rivers were notBroene holdt same standard som I Mongolia, heldigvis gjorde ikke elvene det

There were also some surprises in the mountains. Her dress was clean before she got on the bike. Afterwards, not so much. But hell, she was the one asked to sit on the bikeMen, det var også lyspunkter I fjellheimen

And also the sidecar box totally dissolved and had to be strapped together…Og sidevognskassa gikk fullstendig I oppløsning

Tired but happy, the gravel has almost come to an end after 4-500 kilometersSliten men fornøyd; nesten tilbake på asfalten etter 4-50 mil på veier som knapt var veier

When I finally got the insurance document the custom officers were very nice, but then again it was a different shift too, probably more honest guysDa jeg fikk meg forsikringsdokument var de argentinske tollerne veldig hyggelige, men så var det også et nytt skift som var noe mer ærlige

When they finished up my paperwork everybody fled the office to look at the bike and get pictures with itDa de var ferdige mes paparen mine maatte de alle fotograferes med sykkelen

Despite a bad reputation of the police in Argentina the police was nice to me. At a check point in the middle of nowhere at dusk they invited me in for the night, gave me a bed and fed meTil tross for et frynsete rykte var politiet I Argentina hyggelige, på et sjekkpunkt I ødemarka inviterte de meg inn og gav meg overnatting og mat

Somewhere in Argentina…Argentina et eller annet sted

These cowboys were loading cows going for a trip to the city. Maybe appeared exciting for the cows at once, but I fair that the day in the city would be the worst day of their livesDisse cowboyene lastet opp kuer som skulle på bytur. Det virket kanskje eksotisk for dem, men jeg tror de skulle få den dårligste dagen på lang tid da de kom til byen

This man was very “Live to ride, ride to live” but it wasn´t much chrome on his horseDenne mannen var veldig “Live to ride, ride to live”, men det var lite krom på hesten hans

Both me and the cows ready for new adventures, luckily our paths split at this pointBåde jeg og kuene er klare for videre eventyr, heldigvis skiltes våre veier her

This is what I’ll remember most from Paraguay, three frame fractures in two daysEr vel dette jeg kommer til å huske best fra Paraguay, tre rammebrudd på to dager

Luckily, it happened in the proximity of weld shops all the timesHeldigvis skjedde det stort sett I nærheten ad sveiseverksteder

The last welder was very pleased to see my “Jesus loves you, but I’m his favorite” sticker. Despite language difficulties he had lately became Christian and after that everything had improved. Earlier it had been a lot of girls and beer for him, which he said was no good at all. I just had to agreeDen siste sveiseren var veldig opptatt av “Jesus loves you, but I´m his favorite” klistremerket. Tross spraakbarrierer kunne han forklare at han var nylig frelst, og alt hadde blitt mye bedre.åFoer hadde det vaert masse styggedom som oel og damer. Jeg kunne ikke annet enn å si meg enig